by Zoe Marriott
There was a long pause. Then he whispered, “You’re bleeding.”
I sighed, relief making my body flush with warmth. “Never mind that. Do you know who I am?”
He swallowed, coughed and leaned sideways, as though trying to sit. I held him down with one hand.
“Let… Let me up,” he said, his tone a mixture of confusion and annoyance.
“No. You were injured; you need to lie still.”
“You’re bleeding. I have to look at your head.”
I took my hand off his chest to touch my face, and found a long streak of gore. It had dried along my check and chin, and flaked off under my fingers. “It’s nothing. My scalp got scratched, that’s all.”
“Let me up,” he said more strongly. “You’d call it a scratch if someone stuck you through with a pike.”
“I’m all right,” I said, exasperated, as I pinned him down again. “Stop struggling or—”
He went rigid. Then his chest heaved. I got hastily out of the way as he rolled onto his side and began to retch. He brought up what seemed like a gallon of river water, and then flopped back with a muffled groan.
“I told you,” I said softly, smoothing the sweaty hair back from his forehead with no more thought than if he were a child. I scooped up a couple of handfuls of sand to throw over the mess he had made, then rinsed my hands in the river. “You were hit in the head hard enough to knock you out for hours. Chances are you’ll be sick for a while.”
“What happened? Where are we?”
“You don’t remember anything?”
He made an impatient gesture with his hand, then covered his face with it. “I remember … an ambush. Arrows. Razia?”
I hesitated for a second. “I’m sorry. She was dead before you went into the water.”
“I went into the— I did what?” He took his hand away from his face.
“One of the rebels clubbed you. You fell over the edge of the cliff and into the river.”
“Why aren’t I dead?”
“Luca and I saw you fall. He shouted that you couldn’t swim and told me to go after you. So I jumped in.”
“He ordered you to jump off the cliff into the river?”
I shifted sheepishly. “I think he probably expected me to climb down and try to pull you out. But I couldn’t see you and I thought I would be too late.”
He covered his face with his hand again. “We should both be dead.”
“Well, we aren’t. Say, ‘Thank you, Frost.’”
“Thank you, Frost.” His tone sounded more grumpy than grateful. “Now help me up.”
“I don’t think—”
“No, you don’t, but I’ll overlook it this once. Lying here is making me feel worse. Help me up.”
I was tempted, just for a second, to fold my arms and watch him struggle. But I was sure that he would keep on trying until he hurt himself, and that wouldn’t do either of us any good. I knelt up and slid my arm under his back, feeling the ridges of scar tissue there drag against my skin. I held my other arm above him. “Grab my arm.”
He obeyed. With an effort that made my stomach muscles cramp, I managed to get him upright. Some more pushing and manoeuvring arranged him so that he could rest against the back wall of the cave. He hissed a little when his bare back touched the mossy earth, and I picked up his thin undershirt, which was more or less dry now, and draped it behind him.
“Put yours on too,” he said gruffly. Something about the angle of his head made me think that he had averted his eyes. “You’ll freeze to death.”
“I’m all right,” I said. But his words had made me conscious of how little I was wearing. I picked my shirt up and pulled it on over the breast-wrapping.
“Can you tell me where we are?” he asked.
“Not really. The river dragged us downstream a long way, then the channel suddenly widened and we floated for a while until the cliffs disappeared.”
“Then we might not be on the River Mesgao any more,” he said. “We could have been sucked into a tributary. When it’s light I’ll climb up and see if I can recognize anything that might help us guess our location.”
“You shouldn’t be climbing anywhere so soon. You stay here and I’ll go out—”
“What would be the use in that? You’ve already said you have no idea where we are.”
“I didn’t mean to reconnoitre,” I snapped. “I meant to gather firewood and forage for food. You can’t even move without wanting to vomit. Who do you think will have to drag you back here if you faint and fall in the water? Show some common sense.”
To my surprise, instead of ripping back at me, he laughed. The low, husky noise filled the dark cave, and I sat back, shocked. I had never heard him laugh like that before. I didn’t think I’d ever heard him laugh at all.
“What? What did I say?” I demanded.
“Nothing, really,” he said, sighing. “I appreciate your advice. But we can’t stay here. We need to get to the others.”
“We don’t know where they are.”
“We’ll go back to the old campsite. I’ll wager anything that that’s where Luca and the rest are by now.”
I didn’t want to say it, but the words wouldn’t be contained. “If Luca’s still alive. If any of them are.”
There was a heavy silence, then Arian said, “Of course Luca is alive. We were winning. I remember that much.”
“We were outnumbered. Two to one, at least. And more rebels were coming. We were in retreat. Anything could have happened. We weren’t there. I wasn’t there—” I managed to stem the flow of words, breaking off with a gasp.
“You followed your captain’s orders,” he said quietly. “That’s all any soldier can do. He sent you to save me, and you did. You should be proud of yourself, not blaming yourself for things you have no control over.”
I pressed my lips tightly together. Finally, I said, “A lot of them are going to be dead, aren’t they?”
Arian hesitated. “Death is part of a soldier’s life. There’s no shame in surviving.”
I scooted over and leaned back against the cave wall beside him. “But you said you were sure Luca is alive.”
“He is,” Arian said firmly. “I would know it if anything had happened to him. I’ve always been able to tell when he was in trouble. He’s fine. I promise.”
My eyes went back to the slow grey ripples on the water. “Is that how you were able to save him from the fire?”
I knew it wasn’t my imagination that Arian’s voice had chilled when he said, “Did Luca tell you about that?”
“Yes. You don’t have to talk to me about it if you don’t want to. Only … I hope we’re friends now, aren’t we?”
“I acknowledge that Luca was right about you. You’re a valuable member of the hill guard.” His tone was flat.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“You don’t have to pretend to like me, just to be polite. You can be a friend to Luca and still hate my guts. Everyone else in camp manages it.”
“I don’t hate you!” I twisted around, trying to see his face. “You’re rude, mean, stubborn, and as bad-tempered as a mule, but I like you anyway. The rest of the hill guards would too, if you would only let them. The way you treat people, it’s as if you do it on purpose, like you almost want them all to dislike you…”
Arian turned his head away. My mouth dropped open.
“It’s true, isn’t it? You have done it on purpose. Why? Why do you want people to despise you?”
He laughed again, but this time the sound was bitter.
“They would anyway. It’s easier if they loathe me because I’ve chosen it.”
As I stared into the shadows that surrounded Arian, I saw in my mind the terrible scars on his back.
Who hated him so much? Who convinced him he would always be hated, no matter what he did?
“What were you just saying to me, Arian? About not feeling guilty over things you can’t control? That there’s no sham
e in surviving?”
His breath was loud in the darkness. “Don’t throw my words back at me. You don’t know me.”
“Well, that’s not my fault! You’ve never told me – or anyone in the hill guard – a single thing about yourself,” I retorted. “Come on, then. What’s your big secret? What’s so important that you think it justifies acting like a wounded boar all the time?”
“I should never have been born,” he said, spitting out the words like rocks. “I’ve already told you that. I killed my own mother. And every day when my grandfather looked at me and saw these eyes – these Sedorne eyes – he saw the man who destroyed his daughter living in his house, eating his food. Breathing, when she would never breathe again. He punished me for that soldier’s sins. And when he got too old and feeble to punish me himself, he let the other villagers do it. I was everyone’s whipping boy. I was lucky to survive to the age of nine, and I doubt I’d have made it to ten. Do you know how Lord Petru found me? Did Luca tell you that?”
“No.” My hands had doubled up into fists, but I kept my voice steady. I was sure that the faintest hint of pity would shut his mouth up like a bear trap.
“He was visiting the village where I lived. Luca was with him. Lord Petru was talking to the elders, my grandfather was among them. Luca wandered away from the meeting and found me at the river. A group of boys were ducking me. Holding me under until I passed out, then dragging me up, letting me come round, and ducking me again. Luca tried to make them stop and they turned on him and beat him too, not realizing who he was. The commotion fetched everyone, including Lord Petru and my grandfather. Lord Petru saw the scars and bruises and my bony ribs sticking out, and he pitied me and took me away and tried to make me one of his family. Instead I was the end of their family. I ruined everything, drove Ion to the Mad King and triggered the events that caused the fire—”
“Stop it!” I interrupted. “It wasn’t the way you’re making it sound. Luca told me what really happened. You were a child and Ion was insane. It wasn’t your fault.”
“He didn’t tell you that,” Arian said flatly. “He didn’t tell you it was Ion’s fault. Luca never blamed him for what happened. He blames himself. And that’s my fault too. They were happy before I came and afterwards they were dead. None of it would have happened if it weren’t for me. So forgive me if I don’t want to make friends with anyone new. I’ve already destroyed enough people.”
His logic was familiar. Horribly familiar. Every word of self-loathing he spoke was one I had used to punish myself in my own mind. And yet, when I heard it from him, it seemed wrong. Why should he take the blame for Ion’s actions? Why should he blame the child he had been for things that were out of that child’s control?
“You’re not the only one, Arian,” I said slowly. “Not the only one who was unwanted. Not the only one who had to live with a curse like that. When I was eight years old my village wanted to burn me.”
“They – what?”
“You heard me. Village boys attacked me and I fought back. When the men dragged me off their sons they hit me with sticks until I was half dead and threw me in a barn and bolted the door. They thought I was possessed by a demon. I was stuck there for three days with broken ribs and no food or water, listening to them debate setting fire to the building, listening to my mother beg for mercy. I licked the wet mould on the walls to stay alive. By the time I escaped I wished I had died.”
“Demons?” The bitterness was gone from his voice now. “That’s barbaric. No one with a grain of sense believes in demons. You were just a little girl. They ought to have been beating their sons, not you.”
“But their sons hadn’t gone insane and started snarling and howling like a wolf, had they?” I said wearily. “You’ve seen me when the battle rage takes me. It’s not natural. It’s a curse. The villagers wanted to burn me because they were terrified of me. And they were right to be scared. My mother and I ran away, and found another place to live, but the same thing happened again. One of the village boys tried to—” I broke off, shaking my head fiercely as if I could shake the memories away. “He was six years older than me. There was no way I could fight back. But when he hit me he drew blood. And the Wolf came again. It beat him until his face was gone. I can still remember the way his skull cracked under my fists. Coming back to myself, hands and clothes all covered in blood and bits of bone.”
“Frost…”
“The boy’s family wanted me killed. They were going to drown me that time. My mother begged for mercy again and in the end the elders banished us. It happened every time. Every time. Because we were alone and vulnerable, there was always someone who wanted to hurt us. Then the Wolf would come, and when it was done we took the blame. We ended up in a tiny, tumbledown village in the middle of nowhere, where everyone was half-starved. My mother was ill. She was so tired, so worn down, that she couldn’t practise her trade any more, and we had no money for food. I went out to hunt for us, and the village women promised that if I brought them some of the meat they would care for her while I was gone. But when I got back she was dead. They were too afraid to enter the house. I don’t know if they were more afraid of catching her fever, or my curse. The rumours had followed me, you see. Ma died alone, and cold, and without anyone to hold her hand. Because of me.”
Arian growled, “Those women were cowards. They lied to you. How could that possibly be your fault?”
“Arian – you don’t make any sense. If what happened to my mother wasn’t my fault, then how can what happened to Luca’s family be yours?”
He drew in a sharp breath. “It’s completely different.”
“Yes, it is different,” I said, hearing bitterness in my own voice now. “The reason your people hated you was far less reasonable. They hated you for being born. For having green eyes. They hated you just because you were there. You never hurt anyone – not like me. And I’ll tell you another thing that’s different between your story and mine. Someone found you, Arian, in the midst of your suffering. Lord Petru and Luca saw the goodness in you, and gave you a different life. And even if Lord Petru is gone now, at least you have Luca. He knows everything about you and he loves you anyway, loves you like family. I’ve never had that. My own mother was terrified of me. She used to flinch if I moved too suddenly. At night, every night, I heard her crying because of me, and what I had done.”
“No.” He sounded almost desperate, as if my story had sickened him as much as his had sickened me. “Don’t say that.”
“Why not?” I demanded. “You’ve never forgiven yourself. Why should I?”
There was silence in the little cave for a few minutes.
“All right,” he said tiredly. “All right. You’re like a landslide when you get started, you know. First the tiny stones, then the pebbles and rocks, then the boulders, raining down on you until you’re squashed flat and all you can do is give up.”
I let out a tiny, slightly mad laugh. “I’ll try to count that as a compliment.”
“I shouldn’t if I were you.” His voice had gone back to its normal dry tone. “Come here. You’re shivering, and if we’re to get a good night’s rest we need to keep warm.”
At his insistence, I helped Arian to lie flat again. I thought it might make him sick for a second time, but after some deep, slow breaths through his nose he gestured at me to lie beside him. He seemed surprised when I fitted myself against his side without hesitation.
“This seems … familiar,” he said cautiously.
“I was keeping you warm earlier too,” I admitted. “While you were unconscious.”
He muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” I asked, wondering if he could really have said, Just my luck.
“Nothing, nothing,” he said. “Shut up and go to sleep.”
It is the end of the nightmare that I dread most. I can never escape it, no matter how long or hard I run. Always, it comes to this.
The steep, jagged rock face towers over me, a
nd my hands cannot find purchase for even one hold. Sobbing and wheezing, I scrabble uselessly at the rocks with bleeding fingers, searching for a crack, a crevice, something, anything, that will allow me to keep running. There is nothing. I can go no further.
The howling of wolves rises, echoing from the rocks that will become my tomb, filling my ears. I turn to face them as they pour over the snow towards me. Without hesitation the first one leaps, teeth bared and flashing in the starlight. I scream…
And in the same moment my scream becomes a snarl; my screaming mouth a muzzle of sharp fangs. I fall upon my weakened prey, tearing into warm flesh, iron-sweet blood splattering and smearing across my fur.
When my hunger is satisfied, I raise my dripping face to the moon and share a howl of victory with my brothers.
We are the Wolf.
Fear us.
Twenty-three
I propped myself up on one elbow and leaned over Arian. Even in sleep his face was grey and exhausted. He had made light of his injuries last night – but if anyone had the sheer stubbornness to start an argument when he was hovering at death’s door, it was Arian. I was sore and bruised and my brain was fuzzy from the previous day’s ordeal and the lack of food, and no one had even hit me on the head. And I knew that the Wolf was working away to heal me. Arian didn’t have that blessing, mixed as it was. He needed rest.
Dawn had only just broken. Light was glinting off the river, but it was still dim in the little cave. I could sneak out and gather firewood without waking him. Once I’d got a fire going, he might be willing to wait for me to find food to cook over it. That would keep him still for a few more hours at least…
“I can feel you staring,” he said, turning his head.
Abruptly we were nose to nose. Arian gulped audibly. I eased back, carefully wrapping my shirt around myself, hoping my cheeks weren’t too red.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“I have to get up sometime,” he said, eyes fixed determinedly on the roof of the cave.
“Not right now. I’m going to look for firewood and to see if I can find something for us to eat.”
